In the middle of the night I am up with my computer on my lap. I can't sleep. I haven't written here for months now, but I've considered sitting down with this quite a few times. Disciplined writers work at it day after day and get through blocks with persistence and fortitude. I suppose I am not such a writer. I have been painting instead and changing - not just the color of the rooms of my home - but myself. Change is constant, as you know, but sometimes the eventfulness of the change is pretty consuming, and that's what I have noticed since I wrote last. Continual change. The way I see people, what matters to me, how people affect me. More important than me - my opinion, my self-orientation - is the way the world works out problems, how equilibrium plays out in real time. You know, the dynamic steady state. A little of this and a little of that - balancing each other out, playing off each other. Chinese call it the yin and yang of existence. I think about that. A lot. I see it everywhere.
On the other hand, we have blogging. I guess that what I want to do, and what blogging is, are two different things. Blogging is: "I went to the store today and saw the new shop that has just opened up. I went in and bought a cute little doodad and wow was that cool." Or it could be: "I am a specialist in the field of political punditry and my opinion is very important. You should pay attention to all I have to say each and every day."
Realizing that it is 2:57 AM, I am not unblogging. Instead, I am certainly uncertain about which direction to go with writing. I write because I think. Better than that would be: I think because I write, which is true. But, if logic applies: If I don't write, I don't think. I'm lost and I don't think it matters right now. I'll straighten it all out later.
It's nearly Christmas 2009, the nighttime world is asleep.